Broken Lance
by Blisterdude
Summary: Burmecia is being rebuilt, slowly. Freya Crescent finds herself trapped in a world she no longer feels a part of. Directionless, lost, buried in the pain and suffering of her people. Can Amarant, of all people, be the one to help her, or will they be at each other's throats all the way? Meanwhile, dark things are stirring.
1. Rainy Days

A/N: Okay, so I am still now working on Cold War, Altered Fates, Snapshots AND To The Lost, but I stumbled on this pairing a little while ago and I haven't been able to get it out of my head. I played this game to death with my friends as a kid, and its totally wild going back all over this stuff again. Anyway, I hope people enjoy this little slice as much as I did writing it.

*Edit: Made a few little changes in this chapter to establish a better timeframe for the story. It now takes place one year after the events of FFIX.

...

It was raining in the Burmecia. It was always raining in Burmecia. It filled cracks and holes in the old cobbled roads, ran into the shattered walls and roofs of homes and other buildings.

Freya was sat on a crumbling old wall that ran beneath a large old oak tree that had somehow survived the destruction of her home. It didn't provide much in the way of shelter, but she didn't mind the rain…much.

Seeing the world and travelling with Zidane and his companions in their efforts to save the world had certainly given her new perspective. One aspect of which, was accepting that there were places where it truly didn't rain all the time, not even _half_ the time.

She adjusted her lance, resting it on her other shoulder idly. Two Burmecians, a woman and a child walked past, smiling at her. The child waved. She raised a hand slightly and waved back, managing a half-smile.

Of course, fame and renown had come with their success, though it made her uncomfortable. All her life she'd fought, she'd served, she'd done her duty; because it was right, because it was expected, not because she'd be thanked or appreciated or recognised. To suddenly be so was…taking some adjustment.

She removed her hat, shaking loose droplets from it before putting it back on, pulling the brim down low and leaning back against the tree.

There were so few of them left now. The city was still in ruins and with the losses they'd suffered here, and with the near total slaughter of the survivors who'd fled to Cleyra, and those who lived there…

Many of those who lived scattered across Mist Continent had been making their way here, arriving in groups over the past year. She supposed it was only natural, to want to be close to what you held dear. The heart had virtually been ripped out of them, she supposed it made sense, to want to try and heal it.

A year. Burmecia was still in ruins, there was still much to do. But work was happening, repairs and rebuilding were underway. Sections of the city were almost habitable and certainly, the aid from Alexandria was welcome, in builders and supplies. Things were progressing.

Still, a year. So why did she feel so lost?

These days, she felt she was mostly here out of a sense of responsibility. What remained of their people looked up to her, and her actions. She had been worried, in the weeks after their victory, and with all the excitement and upheaval, when there had been calls to raise her as some kind of leader. Thankfully, with time, that talk had died down.

A small council of responsible individuals stood in as a kind of governing body until a more permanent solution could be found. Mostly they dealt with small squabbles, the continuing construction and keeping track of their people, those here and those arriving each day.

She stayed because it was the right thing to do. She stayed because to abandon them now, in this time of their greatest weakness…

An icy wind blew down the street, eliciting a violent shiver. She turned up her collar, so it covered most of her face now, pulling it tighter around her. These days, her old coat was certainly worse for wear. Frayed cuffs, tears, rips, loose threads, mud, blood, dirt and weatherworn, but it was as much a part of her as her lance, or her similarly tired old hat.

Tired, old, worn, beaten. Just like her.

She ran a hand over the front of her coat, bare now of the escutcheon she had traditionally worn. The coat of arms of the Burmecian Kingdom, she had discarded her old one, and it didn't seem right to replace it, not anymore.

She was twenty-two years old and sometimes she felt like this was it.

So many days were like this now, filled with nothing but wondering at her idling existence. She helped with the rebuilding, often, but what was it to her? Her home was gone, her rulers gone, her duty gone, her love…

…Fratley.

She had been overjoyed to know he still lived, but they hadn't…reconnected. Not in the way they had been. He couldn't remember her, and she didn't know the man he was now. Not that he had turned bad or anything, he was brave, forthright and responsible. The revitalisation of their people was foremost in his mind and he could always be found aiding in any work he could find. Fratley had had an opportunity to truly begin again, and he had made good use of it.

He just wasn't the Fratley she'd loved.

She was sure she was different too though. She wondered often if that was part of the reason they hadn't been able to regain what they'd lost, how could they if she too was not the person he'd left, how could he remember somebody he didn't know anymore?

It hadn't hurt as much as she'd felt it should. But then nothing had. She hadn't cried for her people, her lover, her losses…was she ice? She wasn't weak, but she was sure she should…react. It was proper to…grieve, to feel something. Instead she simply drifted on, as if nothing around her was really part of her. She felt disconnected from everything, here. She missed her friends.

Her nose twitched, suddenly. She lifted her head, slightly. The rain and the damp obscured much, but there was the barest hint of…something…a familiar smell.

She heard heavy footsteps, splashing in the puddles toward her from the left. They were slow, and somewhat ungainly. Without turning, she moved aside a little, making space for the newcomer to sit.

The large form of Amarant Coral ducked beneath the low branches of the tree, settling on the small wall beside her. He didn't look comfortable, being almost twice her size, but she knew he wouldn't say anything. He never did.

"Hello old friend."

"Crescent." He grunted.

Without turning her head, she glanced toward her companion. His normally fiery red hair was darkened, and soaking, hanging loosely down his back, thick strands plastered across his face. His pale, oddly blue tinted skin glistened in the rain. His clothes too, were drenched.

Freya couldn't begin to imagine what had brought him all the way out here. She knew him too well to consider that it had been just for the benefit of her company, and yet…in a twisted way, she counted him as one of her most loyal friends. She wondered if he felt the same, she doubted he really thought of people in those terms, but she liked to think he counted her as at least a reliable ally.

And yet over the course of the year, he'd come, several times. Never announced, never regularly. But he had visited. Always short, and they often simply wound up arguing at each other's throats. Still.

Their travels had born a kind of mutual respect between them. They were both warriors, with a code. It differed here and there, for Amarant, but it was a code nonetheless. He had opened, in such a way as Amarant could be open, to her in a way that he hadn't to the others.

"So it really does always rain here." He said, suddenly.

From anybody else, it would have been a pointless remark. But Amarant didn't really do conversation, so she allowed herself the barest hint of a smile.

"Yes."

"I don't like it."

"You get used to it."

"Are you?"

The question caught her momentarily off-guard. She turned to face him for a moment. He didn't move. Rain ran down his face, droplets following the curve of his angular cheeks, and chin.

"I was." She replied, leaning back against the tree once more.

He chuckled slightly, a throaty, coarse sound.

"That what you're doin' out here, like a drowned rat?"

"Speak for yourself Coral. You humans weren't built for water." She smirked, turning her head slightly.

He chuckled again.

"Glad t' see you haven't lost yourself out here, Crescent."

"I didn't think you cared." She said off-handedly, knowing he'd disprove.

Amarant let out a "hmph" and didn't reply. She didn't expect him to, short of insulting her or berating her for such a foolish remark. The fact he didn't even do that she considered a mark of his respect for her.

They sat in silence for several minutes. She knew he was probably tired and fed up with the rain but he wouldn't complain, or ask to go somewhere else. She sighed, in the quiet of her own mind, knowing it was up to her.

"Would you like something to eat? My house isn't far."

She chided herself for hesitating before saying it. Even now, in front of him, she couldn't make herself think of it as "home". It was just a house, she was just staying there. She managed not to flinch, thus not embarrassing herself further, as Amarant actually turned to look at her. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel his gaze. Had he noticed her hesitation? Did he understand? Would she ever know? Probably not.

"If you want." He replied, after a pause.

Did she want him to eat something in her house?

His response didn't make sense, but it was as good as she was going to get and Freya knew it. She stood, shifting her lance to her other hand and resting it over her shoulder once more. Amarant followed suit, stooping low until they were out from under the tree and together, they walked through the empty streets.

…

Freya carried the steaming pot of tea back into the dining room. Amarant was at the table, trying to eat as though it was something he didn't need to do. She'd never really seen somebody eat another person's food as if they were doing them a favour, but he was doing a pretty good job of it.

She'd shed her coat and hat, leaving her in a white shirt with loose, long sleeves, a brown waistcoat, knee-length tan trousers and the leather gaiters that made up her usual attire. She was happily mostly dry, though her hair was somewhat damp.

Amarant on the other hand, had…well he'd refused an offer of a change of clothes and had left a trail of water around her house, a growing puddle beneath his seat at the table.

She took a seat across from him, setting the pot down and pouring the both of them a cup. He looked at his like it was some kind of offense to nature. He wouldn't touch it, she knew.

"Whatsisname not around then?" He asked, not looking up from his food.

She blinked. She was sure he knew Fratley's name, was he just being deliberately insulting?

"You know his name." She replied, steadily.

"Flatly."

Deliberately insulting, then.

"We don't live together anymore." She answered, calmly, refusing to bite.

"Forget you were a woman too, did he?"

"I beg your pardon."

Amarant only shrugged his large shoulders, gaze wandering around the room.

"Thought you were a man first time we met."

Had he actually come all the way out here just to insult her? She was beginning to wonder why she'd entertained the notion he hadn't. She wasn't even sure how to reply. He must have been loving every minute of this.

"Fought like one." He continued, having noticed her reaction. "Looked a bit like one. Hard to tell with you lot."

She swallowed a mouthful of the tea, along with a mouthful of her growing rage at the belligerent outlaw sitting across from her.

"You know, I'm actually busy. I've got things I could be doing. And as touched as I am you came all the way out here just to insult, berate and belittle me, you could have saved the time and sent a damn letter." She snapped.

"Looked real busy earlier." He chuckled again, in that rough, earthy tone.

Freya set down the cup.

In one fluid motion she was on her feet, had a hand around his throat and pulled him to his feet with a strength even he found surprising. Her lips curled in a snarl and she drove her other fist into his jaw, sending him reeling backward.

"Remember who you're dealing with, Coral." She bared her teeth, fists balled as her ears flattened, low.

He rubbed his chin, propping himself up on his elbow.

"You are in there somewhere, then." He grinned up at her.

The anger retreated as quickly as it had come. As much as she was annoyed that she'd let him goad her, she began to understand what he'd been doing.

"Bastard." She muttered, extending a hand down to him. She noted he waited before taking her hand, until her ears had perked back up again.

Freya allowed herself the satisfaction that he at least knew her enough to know when to push and when to stop.

"No idea why," He began, dusting himself off a little. ", but they're all missing you."

She assumed he was referring to their friends in Alexandria.

"Did they send you?" She asked, as they sat down again.

"Nobody sends me anywhere." He replied, in a tone that said he wouldn't elaborate further.

She tried to hide her surprise. Did that mean he'd come by his own choice? She wasn't sure what that meant, did it even mean anything? Amarant just did what he wanted, was there any understand it?

"I haven't seen everybody in a long time." She mused, half to herself.

"You should get away from here." He stated, as if it was obvious.

She took another sip of the tea, watching him carefully. It was like Amarant was asking her to come back with him.

"I can't just leave."

He "hmph'd" again, staring at the ceiling. He was such a bizarre man, so unlike even other humans she'd met. He was a spectacle wherever he was, slightly out of place. Even moreso here, in her house. Most humans were, admittedly, not as big as Amarant, but even so, Burmecians were of a generally smaller stature, and he cut a very odd figure, at the table slightly too small for him, in a house that didn't seem quite designed for someone of his size.

"It's not going anywhere. Fratley's good at digging dirt."

High praise indeed, she mused. Amarant had even said his name right. She felt…well, she felt something, at the thought that Amarant was being so…un-Amarant for her sake.

Could she just leave? It wouldn't be forever. A week maybe, maybe two. Just some time to see old friends…

"He said you could."

"You…talked to Fratley?" She managed. Freya tried to imagine the exchange, grimly.

"Sort of." Amarant replied, impassive as ever.

Immediately, she was concerned. She'd be sure to check on Fratley before she left. If she left. If.

"There are people counting on me." She said.

Amarant leaned back, the small chair creaking under his weight. He shrugged his large shoulders again.

"Always will be. We saved the world."

She looked down at her tea, the steam slowly disappearing as it cooled. Her face looked back up at her out of the murky cup. She ran a hand through her hair. She was so tired.

"Come."

She looked up, not sure she'd really heard it. Amarant regarded her unflinchingly. She chewed the inside of her mouth.

"Okay."

She was sure she was imagining it, because Amarant didn't get concerned or worried or things like that, but she could have sworn his shoulders…slumped a little, as if he'd been tense the moment before.

"Least I don't have to deal with Zidane's perky bullshit." He muttered.

Well, it was better than nothing, she supposed.

"I'm going to bed." She said, standing slowly. "Stay here tonight. Make yourself comfortable."

He only grunted in reply as she strolled past the table and him, heading for the stairs. She stopped at the bottom, turning back just in time to see his head spin away from her. She blinked, mulling over the idea that he'd been watching her as she walked away.

"Goodnight." She said as she slowly made her way upstairs.

Before he was completely out of sight, she saw him tentatively reach out for the cup of tea.


	2. Fratley

A/N: If you're like this so far leave a few thoughts and comments. Not sure how far I'm gonna take this yet, but it'll certainly be more likely to be continued if I know somebody is enjoying it!

...

Amarant loped through the skeleton of Burmecia. Night cast the remains of the city in a surprisingly peaceful, if sombre glow. It reminded him of a graveyard. Not that he'd ever admit it, but it did anger him to see the place in such a state. It was so different from his first impression of the place, from his first meeting, real meeting with a Burmecian.

He'd challenged the scrawny little rat-man to a fight. Imagine his surprise when he'd found himself on the losing end, before they were interrupted by Alexandrian guards for brawling in the streets.

Brawling…ha! It was one of his most fondly recalled fights!

He'd been even more surprised afterwards to know that not only had he almost had his ass handed to him, but it had been nearly delivered by a woman. Under the heavy coat and big hat, behind the armour and the lance, the wiry, agile little thing was a girl!

Amarant had laughed, later. It wasn't that he'd never seen women fight, or that he thought they couldn't. Alexandria was renowned for its elite armed forces, composed solely of women, and their general, Beatrix, was said to be unparalleled in skill.

It was just that he'd never before so completely underestimated an opponent. If he'd had any doubts about accompanying that irritating kid Zidane and his friends, they took a backseat to the opportunity to fight beside another such accomplished warrior. Yeah, Freya could take care of herself.

So what was he doing here?

Lots of things. Nothing. The others missed her. It was for the others. She missed them. She just needed a push. She wasn't happy. Somebody had to come. He didn't need to be here. Nobody had asked him to do this. He wasn't doing this for himself.

Life was easier when he didn't know anybody.

He was cold, he noted, but he wandered on, eventually coming upon a street that was actually currently under repair. Houses and the road were covered in scaffolding and building materials were piled about. Nobody here now though, not at this time of night. Only people like him were-

"Master Coral."

He turned to see Sir Fratley walking toward him out of the gloom, through the sheets of rain. He grunted a half-hearted greeting. The dragoon had his hands in the pockets of the brown coat he wore, and his hat was tipped backward somewhat.

"Nice night." Fratley commented, calmly.

"You rats might like the rain. I don't."

Fratley didn't argue, or retort.

"Did you ask her then?"

Amarant was annoyed at the implication that he'd come out here just to ask some rat to leave here and visit her friends, even if he had.

"I'm not some messenger."

"Of course." Fratley held up a hand, placatingly.

"She's leaving." He growled slightly.

Fratley nodded slowly to himself, smiling a little.

"Good."

"What do you care?"

"Just because I cannot remember, does not mean I cannot care." Fratley fixed him an intense stare. "I truly believe I…the man I used to be loved her once, just as I believe she cared deeply for me."

"You don't think she loved you?" He felt his temper rise. "She spent years looking for you."

Fratley sighed.

"We were young, she was young. I understand we had little time for each other, and that I left so soon…"

Fratley ducked smoothly as Amarant lashed out. He remained calm as he blocked a series of heavy swings from the flame-haired human.

"It is in the past. A past I no longer remember." Fratley growled, determinedly, holding back Amarant's greater weight with admirable resilience. "Freya must move on with her life, and she cannot do so here."

"You rats were nearly wiped out." Amarant grunted, heaving against the smaller burmecian. "She's helping you."

"She's hiding." Fratley retorted.

The dragoon sidestepped suddenly and Amarant stumbled forward. He was ready for Fratley's leg trying to trip him, catching it and trying to throw him. Fratley rolled in mid-air, landing neatly on the other side of the street.

They stared at one another, breathing heavily. There was only the sound of the rain, pattering on the cobblestones around them.

"Day by day, she buries herself a little more. She has not accepted what has happened to our people, to our homes, to _us._"

"You sayin' she doesn't know it happened?" He barked a laugh, gesturing at the ruin around them.

"You don't understand." Fratley shook his head, relaxing his stance.

"No, I don't." He said bluntly, crossing his arms.

Another silence stretched between them.

"Maybe you don't need to." The dragoon murmured, idly. "Take her away from here, for a while at least."

"Not doin' a thing for you." Amarant argued.

"Fine. Leave when she does, if it's easier to swallow that way. I don't care for you anymore than you do for me, but I do care about Freya." Fratley pulled down the brim of his hat, walking closer to him. "I think you do too." The dragoon turned and walked away before he could argue again.

When the burmecian was gone, he turned to look back the way he'd come. Freya's house lay that way, and he felt he should be there when she awoke. Already the first tendrils of light were visible, promising another grey, wet dawn in Burmecia.

He buried his fist in the nearest wall, relishing how the pain buried other…thoughts, other feelings swirling around his confused mind. He hadn't had any kind of plan when he'd arrived here, yesterday, but still, nothing was going the way he thought things should. Nothing seemed the way it ought to, nothing was the way it used to be, before.

The hardest thing to swallow was that he didn't mind as much as he felt it should.

…

Amarant watched as she bustled back and forth, packing things, checking over her house and writing things down on a growing list. He could have offered to help, but honestly, he was finding this entertaining. Currently, she had one arm through the sleeve of her coat, her hat was perched sideways on her head, covering half her face and she was still had the notebook and pencil clutched between her teeth.

People kept stopping by, too. Some at her invitation, but most once word had spread that she was going. Privately, he was impressed at the level of respect she commanded from her people now. What was left of them, anyway. He noted she didn't seem to revel in it, though. She seemed more uncomfortable, than anything else. Like him.

"Ready yet?" He grumbled as she bounded past, obviously forgetting something else.

"I'm very sorry that I actually own things, and that I can't just disappear for weeks at a time without a word." She rebuked, sarcastically.

"Pity." He smirked. "We'd be gone by now."

"We?" Her mouth curved slyly. "Surely Amarant Coral wouldn't condescend as to travelling with other people, least of all some irritating rat?"

He knew she was taking the piss. He did enough.

"Got business in Alexandria." He said, not caring that he knew she didn't buy it. "You can tag along, goin' the same way."

"How gracious." She quipped, pulling the coat on properly and buttoning it up.

Amarant got up, still hunched slightly because of the low ceiling. He stood aside as she slung the bag on her back and nestled her old hat on her head, covering her ears and made her way to the door. She retrieved her lance, resting it over her shoulder, and pulled it open.

"After you."

He was probably frowning, under that mass of hair, she supposed. Probably wanting to object to such a pointless bit of politeness, but he also wanted to leave. She could see his mouth set in a firm line as he wrestled with the thought, before grunting and stalking out without a word.

Freya found herself smiling as she pulled the door closed behind her and followed the lumbering giant. She pulled her hat down low, knowing Amarant wouldn't approve of such a thing as happiness, but that thought only made her smile more.

Eventually they came to the still-ruined city gates. A crowd had gathered to see her off. Amarant's displeasure of this eventuality practically radiated off of him. She didn't like it much either, the attention embarrassed her, but unlike Amarant, she could swallow her displeasure and bear it, like she bore so many other responsibilities.

They were almost through, with only a few smiles, waves and farewells when Amarant stopped suddenly in front of her.

"What is it you big-" She shoved him aside, and came face to face with Fratley.

"Hello Freya."

The situation was only made moderately less uncomfortable as she heard much of the crowd begin to filter away, having more important things to do.

"Sir Fratley." She acknowledged, neutrally.

"I think…I believe we knew each other better than that, in the past."

Amarant watched the exchange with an interest he found surprising. Part of him kept expecting the other dragon knight to mention their scrap the night before, but he didn't. Outside of a brief nod of greeting, Fratley ignored him altogether. Normally, he would have been fine with that, but for some reason, right now it irritated him.

His focus on Freya irked him too, and her reaction to the other burmecian. The way he seemed to make her so…uneasy, off-balance. He'd almost have said vulnerable, if he didn't know her better. And he did, he decided. He knew her better than this man who had forgotten her. It annoyed him how she seemed to fold in on herself when faced by him. It wasn't Freya, it wasn't how she should act.

"Watch yourselves. The mist is gone, but so is the most reliable method of transport. You have a long journey ahead of you."

"Made it here didn't I?" Amarant laughed, sharply, pushing past Fratley. "Bloody rats, bloody rain, bloody mist…" The fire-headed man strode on, muttering to himself.

"Goodbye, Fratley." Freya held out a hand, hating herself for how he'd caught her so off-balance.

His eyes flashed something, briefly. She wasn't sure whether it was hurt, confusion, concern, or a mix of all of them.

"Be careful, with him." Fratley took her hand gently. "He's…unstable."

"You don't know him." She rebuked, sharply.

"Perhaps not." He smiled sadly. "It wouldn't be the first time I'd known somebody less well than I'd have liked"

She looked away, studying a patch of the cobblestone road intently.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." He replied. She felt awful as she took in the plain honesty on his face.

Behind him, Amarant had come to a stop just outside the gate and was waiting with what she could only think of as the least patient patience she'd ever seen. Fratley followed her gaze, before turning back to her.

"I'd better go."

"Enjoy yourself." He stepped aside with a grin, holding an arm up dramatically. "And come back soon."

Freya smiled back and walked past and out the gate. Amarant fell in beside her without a word. The morning rain was soft and cool, for which she was grateful. It acted like a shower, washing the weight and the worry and the pressure off of her that was so a part of her in the city. Already she could feel a little lighter.

She felt the first tear trickle down her cheek a few minutes later, followed by the second. She almost wished it was raining heavier, the last thing she wanted was for Amarant to-

"Rain's pretty heavy." He said, suddenly. "Could do with a new hat, yours must be leaking." A hand appeared in front of her, holding a scrunched up looking cloth.

She tilted her head left slightly, peering closely at her companion. As usual, there was nothing to see. His expression, his bearing, all as guarded as she was expecting. She looked back down, taking the scarf.

"Guess so." She murmured.

She didn't say anything else, which suited Amarant fine. He was already having enough trouble trying to decide why he hadn't just barked some insult about her former lover, or something crude to make her angry with him. Nothing seemed to bring her out of a funk faster than reminding her he was an asshole, during their travels with Zidane and the others. Mostly because she'd snap out of it and put him in his place.

For some reason, this seemed different.

If she noticed as he moved slightly closer to her, while they walked, she made no mention if it. Again, this suited him fine, he thought, as they pressed on into the chill morning air, leaving rain-soaked Burmecia far behind them.


	3. The Road To Alexandria

A/N: In today's episode, our mismatched heroes consider the past, visit pubs and trouble wildlife. R&amp;R, folks! Enjoy!

...

Even Amarant could admit he'd probably underestimated the state of the roads. Well, he wouldn't ever admit he'd been wrong, not out loud, but in the privacy of his own mind…

He ducked the axe as it swung in a horizontal sweep over his head.

With the mist gone, the kingdoms had turned to Lindblum to build their own brand of steam-vessels, but demand was easily outstripping supply still. Travel was still irregular at best for many regions, and considering the current state of Burmecia, it hadn't been deemed…important enough.

Freya frowned at the thought, as she leapt back from the Lizard Man's strike. It hissed, raising both axes again while she raised her lance. It came on, lunging forward. She stepped sideways and rammed the tip home, piercing the side of the scaled creature, eliciting a cry of pain. To her left she saw Amarant bury his fist in the face of his opponent, and follow it up with an uppercut which sent the lizard sprawling.

Behind them, the refugees huddled together nervously. They'd come upon them two days into their journey, on the borders of Burmecian territory, under attack by the reptilian band.

Not important enough, she seethed. Her people were on the brink but it wasn't important that they have a reliable, safe way to get home. How many died on these roads, when the one or two ships every few months not earmarked for aid supplies had already left?

The Lizard Man came on again and she sprang upward, the muscles in her powerful legs carrying her high above her foe. It looked up, enraged, until she bore down onto its shoulders, digging her clawed feet in hard and she drove the spear through the back of its neck.

She jumped off, landing behind it as it let out a gurgle and keeled over. The remaining Lizard Men began to retreat, having already lost five or six others against the two of them. Amarant appeared beside her, flexing his knuckles with a satisfied smirk.

Truthfully, she was feeling pretty smug too. She hadn't been in battle for too long, she hadn't felt so…alive, so much like her old self since…she couldn't remember. She slung her lance back, raising the brim of her hat with a heavy breath, sweat clinging to her brow.

"Fun, wasn't it." Amarant muttered.

"It's been a while." She agreed.

She had missed this. She was a warrior, a dragon knight, for all that was worth now. But a warrior still.

The frightened travellers thanked them for their intervention and began making their away along the road back to Burmecia.

"I hope they make it." She mused, aloud.

"Worry about u-" He cleared his throat noisily. "…yourself."

She looked up at him curiously, but he stared unflinchingly at some point in the distance.

"I'm sure I can find some time to worry about you, too."

"Hrrm." He grunted, and began walking on.

"You could always worry about me I suppose, then I could devote more time to worrying about you." She continued, keeping pace with him.

Amarant made a growling noise at the back of his throat and began walking faster.

Freya smiled involuntarily as she watched the large man stride on. She strolled along behind, her mood improving with the weather. The sun was breaking through the clouds that never left her homeland, and the rain had come to a stop. It was shaping up to be a good day.

…

"'n that's why nobody in Treno'd ask me to help build another house."

Freya swallowed another mouthful of the beer as she listened to Amarant talk. He wasn't much of a social animal, but then neither was she. He did seem to like telling her stories though, once he had decided that there was time for that sort of "foolishness". He never really seemed to share with the others, during their travels, just her. He even seemed to appreciate when she told him some of hers.

To Freya, they'd always seemed quite dull, but a different side of Amarant came out whenever they shared old memories. He'd sit still, like always, arguably, but there were subtle differences in his body language, his expression. Things she'd learned to notice.

They'd come upon an inn, in a small farming hamlet somewhere in the vast plain between Burmecia and the Alexandrian Plateau.

In the year since the mist had receded, the kingdoms suddenly found themselves with vast swathes of accessible farming land. Small farmsteads and communities were springing up along the hastily built roads, connecting the kingdoms by land for the first time in living memory.

Around them, she could feel the eyes of the locals glancing their way every now and then. Admittedly, they were a strange pair. The blue-skinned, red-haired giant and the oddly dressed rat.

"Your turn." He downed the remnants of his own drink.

She nodded, digging through her memory for a story, but found herself distracted.

_Rat._

It was a slur that she found herself hearing more often, the closer they came to more…civilised regions. Of course, it wasn't a new thing, given the kingdoms' war-filled pasts, it was no new insult to a burmecian, but she hadn't heard it muttered under quiet breaths quite as often as she did now for…well…ever.

She knew many simply regarded her people as a drain on Alexandria now, begging for a handout. How easily some forgot that it was their own warmongering Queen who'd sacked and slaughtered her way through-

"Crescent."

She blinked, and looked down. Her claws had dug into the wooden tankard, raking long marks along its exterior. Her tail flicked irritably behind her.

She set down the drink, flexing her fingers like it was nothing. She tried not to think about the fact she'd been visualising driving her lance through some stupid bastard's…

Freya closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm.

"Drinks're on you if you ain't got a better story, rat." Amarant had turned his head to face her, drink halfway to his mouth.

For a fleeting moment, she wanted to chuck her drink in his face and laugh, but she'd be damned if she was paying for the braggart's drinks.

"There was this time in Alexandria. We met this loudmouth bounty hunter. A real blowhard." She smirked, seeing his lips curl in the barest hint of a smile. A rare thing indeed. "He challenged me to a fight, and…"

Amarant watched as she began to tell the story, gesturing animatedly. She tilted her hat back, showing more of her face as she looked to and from him while she talked. He could see the anger and the deep frown that had settled over her moments before was gone.

So he didn't know shit about people. Not his problem, he didn't like people anyway. He was coming around to the idea that he liked Freya, though. Not just respecting her as a worthy ally in combat, but as…an individual. It was an alien concept to him, his whole life had been centred on himself. It was a strange and…uneasy thing to try and accept, for somebody who had never really had a friend before.

He liked the rat though, damn it. And he was coming to accept he knew her. He knew how to distract her, read her moods, he knew how to take her mind off one thing by making her angry or annoyed with him. He hoped she never caught on. Amarant was still in uncharted territory and wasn't sure how to deal with the kind of questions she might ask.

"Pull the other one," He waved a hand, dismissively. "Those guards saved your ass."

"I must have hit you harder than I thought." Freya grinned. "Your memory is failing you."

He made sure to argue as much as possible, before snarling under his breath and paying for their drinks. Amarant wasn't sure what it meant, to him or otherwise, but he decided he like the way she smiled up at him, then.

…

A week into their journey, they were still trudging across the flat plains between the two kingdoms. Freya had no idea there was so much…_space. _Air travel had really spoiled them all, over the years.

Amarant simply seemed impervious to the trials of their journey, although she noted he seemed a little more slouched, his movements slightly more exaggerated. He was tired too, though he'd yet to make mention of it.

Freya was tired though. She gripped the lance tightly as it swayed over her shoulder. She hooked her bag on the end, to give at least one of her sore shoulders a break.

She eyed the horizon, seeing the sun gradually slipping low. It wouldn't be long before it was obscured by the cliffs that ringed the lowlands. With a practiced eye, she scanned their surroundings, spying a small crop of sparse woodland ahead.

"We should set a camp." She ventured.

"Exposed." Amarant grunted.

"That stand of trees will do, won't it?" She pointed ahead.

He grunted, which she thought might have been approval. It was hard to tell sometimes.

It turned out to be farther away than it looked though, as half an hour later they wandered into a small clearing near the edge of the trees, and the sun was already dropping from sight. Darkness crept over them.

While she stowed her bag and lance against a tree, Amarant was already busy lighting a fire, illuminating the small clearing and them in its flickering glow. She took a seat in front of it as Amarant did the same, across from her. She set down her lance beside her, tapping it twice to reassure herself it was within easy reach

"Ever go anywhere without that thing?" Amarant chuckled, coarsely.

"You know the answer to that." She replied, softly.

Freya opened her began rummaging through it. She was almost out of food, and she'd long since chided herself for underestimating how long it would take to get to Alexandria. And of course Amarant had brought…absolutely nothing, so her meagre supplies had been stretched even further for two.

"Hungry?" She asked wearily, not expecting anything so simple as a "yes" or "no" as she withdrew half a loaf of crusty bread.

It snapped in half, bread wasn't supposed to snap. She grimaced, wondering whether her appetite or her sense would win out. She held out a piece tentatively while Amarant leaned closer, giving the bread what she assumed to be an intense level of scrutiny. He plucked it from her extended hand, turning it over warily.

"Rather die." He dropped it into the fire, staring as it crackled and burned.

Freya eyed the fragment left in her own hand, warily. She was hungry, but…

Seconds later her own piece was doing a disconcertingly good job of fuelling their fire.

Amarant smirked slightly, as a light frown settled on the burmecians brow.

"For a second there, thought you'd lost your survival instincts."

Freya pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her arms atop them and settling her head atop her arms.

"Not quite ready to submit to death by…that." She laughed gently. The first time he'd seen her do so since they'd left.

Freya had laughed often on their former travels, at Zidane, at Vivi, at Steiner's antics, little Eiko, even that soft-hearted, doe-eyed waif, Garnet. He wondered briefly whether being queen had done anything for her confidence.

Never at him, though.

Thinking about it, this was the longest they'd ever been together. Alone. Without wanting to tear each other limb from limb. What had changed? Had anything changed? The lack of surety troubled Amarant.

He'd never regarded the others as friends. Grudgingly, considering their achievements together, he had accepted them as worthy and reliable allies. They had pulled together and done incredible things. But Freya was different. Freya was always different. His mind always seemed to place the dragoon in "other" when he thought of them all.

He'd even made considerable and uncharacteristic effort to travel to Burmecia to visit her two or three times over the last year, when it became apparent she was not going to be coming back to Alexandria. Why had he done that? All they'd done those times was end up arguing after a few hours and he'd get frustrated and leave, never staying longer than a few hours.

But here they were. Why?

He'd done a lot of travelling alone this year, places he'd already been, but it had been…different. His perception had altered, somehow. In small ways. Amarant considered the possibility that he had changed, and not the others, not the world. He found that…he did not like it, of course, but…

…but it wasn't as distasteful a thought as it might once have been.

_"Come."_ He'd said. He'd asked her. He hadn't made excuses, questioned her motives and choices, or used their companions friendship as a hook. He'd asked her.

Had that made a difference? Should he question her sanity if it had? Normal people, to his mind, did not get too close to him. But then normal people were idiots. Was it something you asked about? Or was he only hoping she'd left that place because of him…

…why the fuck would he be hoping that? What did it matter to him what she did. Apart from that it did.

He clenched shut his eyes, clutching his hands to his head and let out a low, rumbling groan.

When Freya didn't react, either scolding him, making a joke or dismissing his usual antagonistic behaviour, he opened his eyes.

She was sat the same way, but the way she was slumped forward, the way her breathing was slow and steady, the way her shoulders gently rose and fell with each breath, he could tell she'd fallen asleep. Her hat covered much of her face from the way she was leant forward, resting her head on her arms, but he could see her thin mouth open slightly.

Amarant wasn't sure how long he watched her like that, unmoving. Obviously, he was just considering her continued effective combat potential. It had nothing to do with other things, like strange feelings washing over him, or unfamiliar tugs and twinges in his chest.

He was just hungry.

A twig snapped in the low brush around the clearing. His head snapped up, suddenly alert. Without thinking, he fixed the steel claws to his hands, relishing the feel of them in his grip. A fight was what he needed. A fight would clear his head of all these strange thoughts. He stood slowly, crouched low, prepared for whatever was out there.

"SQWWAA-AARK!"

_What the ever loving fu-_

"SQQWWAARRK!"

He noticed Freya jump, looking around quickly, half-dazed as she grabbed her lance and jumped to her feet unsteadily. He decided not to mention she was holding it upside down, allowing her a few seconds to finish waking up as she flipped it over, hurriedly.

"What…what is…" She stammered, stopping beside him. "…is that a chocobo?"

The gold-feathered flightless bird stalked out of the bushes, eyeing them with a bemused expression.

Amarant's stomach growled loudly, and insistently. His mouth curved in a grin.

"It's dinner."

She saw his tongue flick across his lips as his whole body tense subtly, muscles rippling. Her eyes widened a little, impressed at the display. Then his words caught up with her still-tired brain.

"Wait…what?" She blinked.

"SQWAA-RRWWAARK?" The chocobo fixed them a confused stare.

"Food." He growled. Then in a split-second, he was tearing forward, clawed hands held wide.

"SQQWWWAAAAAAAAAA-" The chocobo screeched, legging it back the way it'd come in an explosion of feathers.

"Amarant, no!" She called after him. "You can't!"

Freya broke into a sprint, scrambling up a tree using a combination of her hands and feet and tore after the fleeing bird and the pursuing flame-haired giant, leaping from tree to tree using the claws on her feet, dragging her lance behind her.

"SSQQAAWWAARRK!"

"Amarant!"


	4. Facades

A/N: Shorter update today, but I crammed in some draammmma because I'm an asshole. And because our heroes haven't had a fight for at least a whole chapter, and we can't have that.

...

Two days later, the pair had managed to secure passage on an airliner used for mail that had stopped at a town still largely under construction at the base of the Alexandrian Plateau. The captain had been reluctant until one of his crewmen had pointed out who they were. It was just as well, nobody wanted to see Amarant getting tetchy, and the crew were already regarding him with a quiet awe.

The two of them were leant on the railing toward the prow of the small ship, side by side. Freya winced as he gnawed the remnants of flesh from a…chocobo leg.

"Must you…do that?"

"You ate it too." He tossed the bone over the side.

"Don't remind me." Her stomach churned.

Starve or chocobo. As unpleasant as it had been, it wasn't much of a choice.

"Food." Amarant nodded, satisfied.

"Poor thing."

The ship rose higher, cresting the edge of the higher cliffs. Freya stifled the urge to gasp as she saw Alexandria come into view. It seemed bigger than she remembered.

She ignored Amarant's unimpressed grunt.

It had been a year, but she still remembered the beautiful city fondly, despite everything that had happened. The sprawl of small, crooked old houses cramped together, the streams that still ran through it, running over the sides of the cliffs, and the castle, still proud and tall over it all.

"Looks bigger." She noted.

Amarant nodded, half-listening. The city had changed in the last year, and not entirely for the better. He wondered if he should say something, frowning in frustration as his habitual self-interest battled his fledgling concern for the burmecian.

_Concern._ The word itself was almost waving up red flags in his mind, as something soft, weak and unnecessary.

The ship came into dock on the city limits. The old harbour for mist-vessels had been expanded considerably, now a large complex of berths and storage warehouses, bustling with activity. He followed Freya as she hopped off, tapping the ground a few times with her feet.

"Flying always throws me out a bit." She said, by way of an explanation.

"You never told anyone before."

Freya shrugged.

"We were trying to save the world. Hardly seemed worth mentioning." She chuckled. "Besides, you would just have insulted me for being "foolish and unrealistic"." Freya quoted, in a bad impression of his voice.

"…hrrm." He grunted.

"And I'd have kicked your ass again."

Amarant chuckled, roughly.

They wandered through the docks in silence, both come over by an odd sense of reluctance. Eventually they came to the gate that opened into the city proper. In this case, a fairly large public square, with a fountain in the centre. A wide road led on beyond it, toward the castle.

The two came to a stop in front of the fountain, and lingered.

"So…" Freya began, prodding the waters of the fountain with her lance.

Amarant said nothing, only staring into the clear waters.

"You could come to the castle with me, I'm sure the others would like to see you." She offered, already sensing his ire.

"Got things to do." He replied, bluntly.

Freya bristled at his tone.

"Right. Obviously." She shook her head.

"Can't just ditch things for you."

"Who said anything about me?" She snapped, irritably.

"You know the others don't give a damn about me either way." He growled back.

"You…_you_!" Freya shoved him backward. "You asked me to come all the way here and I did."

"Not my problem." Amarant replied, before he could stop himself.

Freya did not look impressed.

"Son of a…" She snarled, dropping her lance and bag.

He barely caught her arm as her fist swung toward his face, sliding back into a combat stance as he deflected her other fist with his forearm. Freya darted forward. She was faster than he remembered but he managed to catch her knee as she rammed it up, wrapping his arm under it, trapping her leg. In her anger she'd made the mistake of trying to punch him with her left hand, which he also caught, pulling her arm across her and rendering her right arm useless.

They glared at one another, faces inches apart and breathing heavily. He could see her pale hair had come loose beneath her hat, her fringe covering half her face but more than capable of seeing the fury in her eyes.

Amarant noticed they'd drawn a small crowd. Guards'd probably be along if they carried on. He was also noticing just how close they were. It wasn't the sort of thing that ever came to mind really, but he was starting to find her proximity making him…uneasy.

Freya too, had noticed. His mouth was set in a thin line, and his eyes stared out at her from beneath the red mass of hair across his face. His hand was pressed tightly, gripping her thigh and his face was very, very close. As her temper cooled, she found herself feeling increasingly odd.

"Let go of me." She barked, through gritted teeth.

There was a moment's hesitation, but he did so, taking a step back from her as she straightened out her clothes.

"…um…" He croaked, but floundered and said nothing more.

Freya picked up her lance, and her bag. She eyed it contemptuously, then threw it at Amarant.

"Keep it." She muttered. "Stinks like…whatever."

He merely stood there, unobjecting. His nonresponsiveness was almost more irritating than a crude rebuttal.

Freya frowned, lightly, mind made up. She began to walk away, toward the castle.

"Crescent."

Freya stopped in her tracks. She shot a look back at the tall outlaw but he didn't say anything else. She turned on her heel and stalked away.

Amarant watched her go, not showing anything of the turmoil raging inside him as he wrestled with the urge to go after her. He couldn't swallow all this. He'd been his own man for so long, for all his life really. What did he care for other people? He'd always done what he wanted, in his own way at his own pace. What did he know about others? Their feelings and cares?

What did it mean that he could no longer simply be as he was without doubting his actions, any more? He'd been thrust into a group of wildly different people in a battle for survival and he struggled to adapt. Now, he thought things, different things, particularly about…her. She preyed on his mind. His every word, choice and action was now not only influenced by his own desires, but by thoughts of the burmecian.

_Why._

He lost sight of her in the crowded streets, but remained at the fountain.

He couldn't go after her. What could he say? What could he do? Almost certainly, they'd fight again. Normally, such a thing brought nothing but enjoyment, but now it left him with only a bitter taste in his mouth, like it had been wrong.

Was he disappointed? If so, why? What had he wanted to go better? Truthfully, the last week and a half had been good, though he'd never admit it. Her company on the road had been…she was…

What a mess.

Amarant's head hurt.

…

Freya marched on up the highstreet, still fuming. She kept telling herself she had no right to be this annoyed, or this upset. Amarant was being Amarant. So he was a bastard, an ass, a low-down, no good, dirty…

She blinked, trying to regain her train of thought.

She had no right to expect any better, she kept telling herself. So why did reminding herself of that only annoy her more? Why did it upset her so much? Why _ had_ she expected more? Why had his stubborn refusal twisted up her insides?

"Damn him." She mumbled, though her heart wasn't in it.

Freya tried to lose herself in the sights and sounds of Alexandria. The sun was shining and the streets and markets were busy, brightly coloured stalls and lights adorned shops and buildings, clearly some sort of event was being planned. It was much as she remembered.

She was aware of people looking at her as she passed, with a mixture of awe, respect, and occasionally distrust, she noted.

Alexandria and Burmecia's relations had always been…rocky. Was it too much to hope that, given all that had happened, old rivalries and old hatreds could simply be buried?

As she passed by an old alleyway, cutting between two houses, she heard a muffled cry and sounds of a scuffle. She recognised the sounds of a fight well enough. With a sigh, she broke off from the road and walked into the alley. It was heavily shaded, the buildings were so close together it barely existed as an alley at all, and little light made it between the irregular roofs above. Freya tightened her grip on her lance, not needing to know what was going on before she saw it.

Three men had ganged up on younger boy and a burmecian girl. She bristled, they looked to be of about Zidane and Garnets ages, all that time ago.

"Enough." Freya stated, calmly.

The men turned to look at her dismissively.

"'nother rat." One smirked toothily. "Fine." He flexed his knuckles.

His companion stopped grinning as the light of recognition dawned on his features, as she readied her weapon.

"That's..." He shook his friends arm. "That's the one who helped the Queen."

"Y'what?" The third asked, staring at her.

"Yeah, Freya Crescent, the-"

"Correct." She interrupted, crouching low, narrowing her eyes. "Leave."

The threat in her stance wasn't lost on the thugs.

The "leader" reluctantly let himself be dragged away by his friends, glaring at her all the way.

Freya relaxed, standing straight once again. She strolled over to the frightened couple, helping the bruised young man to his feet.

"Are you both alright?"

The girl was looking at her with something close to reverence, as the boy brushed himself down.

"We were lucky you came along." The girl smiled.

"It shouldn't be like this." The young man frowned, looking back at his friend. "I've known Lendra for years, suddenly, she's getting cursed in the street and _I'm_ the traitor to my people for standing by her."

"That's very brave." Freya said, wishing she had something more useful to say.

The boy sighed.

"I'm sorry Lady Crescent, thank you for helping us."

"You don't need to call me-" She objected, but the two were already on their way back to the main street.

Freya mulled over what had just happened, sourly, as she walked back toward the highstreet herself. She didn't like this, she didn't like it at all.

As she turned toward the castle once again, she decided to have a word with Garnet about this new side to Alexandria.


	5. Reflected

A/N: And now, nefarious happenings are afoot!

...

Zidane lounged on the balcony, drumming his fingers. Garnet was busy in another closed meeting and Steiner was off with…Beatrix, doing…

Well, it didn't bear thinking about.

Tantalus were due back in a week or so, for the celebration Garnet was planning, to commemorate one year since their liberation from the mists that plagued Gaia. They weren't here yet, and Zidane was bored.

He missed Vivi. The little black mage had always had his back, through thick and thin. It had crushed him when one day, he was just gone and in his place were three younglings, each a mirror of their…he wasn't sure how it worked with them really, their father? Garnet had insisted they remain at the castle with them, until they were old enough to care for themselves.

Eiko, the summoner, had taken a shine to them. Though reluctant to admit it, she had a mature streak that put his own years over her to shame. The mages seemed to like her too, becoming attached to her over the past year.

His thoughts turned to another old comrade, one he knew before Brahne's wars, Kuja's attempts at domination or that fateful night where Tantalus kidnapped a willing princess.

He hadn't seen Freya Crescent since the day of his return from the Iifa Tree. She had returned to Burmecia, after finally reuniting with Sir Fratley and…simply not come back. He felt a twinge of sympathy for his old friend, unable to imagine how difficult it must have been to come to terms with the fact the one she loved no longer knew her. Zidane couldn't begin to wonder what he'd do if one day Garnet turned around and just…didn't know him.

Whatever kept his old friend away must have been serious. He'd seen more of Amarant than he had of her, and that was saying something. He was pretty sure Amarant intensely disliked him. Baby steps though, he mused, because the red-haired giant used to just hate him outright.

The outlaws own behaviour had been odd. Well, for him. Amarant had visited briefly three or four times, always on his way to somewhere else, or busy with something so he never remained long. Mostly he would listen as Zidane updated him on how everyone was doing, occasionally offering some derisive remark condemning Zidanes choices or feelings. The former thief was used to Amarant's behaviour though, never taking offense.

The last couple of visits had been odd though. Amarant had asked him about Freya twice, and about his relationship with Garnet. It was weird, hearing the older man asking halting questions on topics he clearly wasn't comfortable or familiar with. Zidane thought he must have been pretty troubled about something to turn to _him._

A flash of red in the crowd of guards and visitors to the castle in the courtyard below caught his eye. He leaned forward, craning to see better over the side of the balcony. He saw it again, through a group of laughing women. The familiar tall hat, the long coat.

He grinned, marvelling at the chances.

With a catlike agility, he leapt over the balcony and with a practiced air, scrambled, slid and dropped down the face of the castle, using a thoroughly-memorised route of other balconies, window ledges and strategically placed handholds chipped into the masonry.

For Zidane, it paid to have less well-known methods of entering or leaving a castle.

Garnet would tear her hair out if she knew he was still doing this, but he was sure she'd understand if it was for a special reason.

"Freya!" He yelled, sliding down a slanted roof to the right of the main doors.

That special reason turned, surprised, too late to move aside as Zidane cannoned into her, dragging the two of them rolling into the dirt while several passers-by gave them a wide-berth.

"You're still…_insane_!" Freya kicked the spry genome off of her and rolled to her feet, though she couldn't repress the grin that grew on her face as Zidane too stood quickly, dusting himself off.

He had grown considerably since she'd seen him last, nearly matching her height now. His blonde hair was also much longer, pulled into a low ponytail. His figure had developed too, no longer the lanky kid she remembered, but a fairly-well muscled young man.

Some things never changed though, she mused, as she noted the excitable flick of his tail and his childish grin. She took a step back, but it was too late as he rushed forward again, wrapping her in a hug and actually picking her up off the ground.

"Where the hell have you been?!" He half-wailed, while she struggled to breathe. "I've been going mad here! Garnet has been trying to teach me _politics_!"

"Sounds horrible." Freya managed, once he'd let her go again and she struggled to compose herself again.

"Who'd be a grown up, right?" Zidane shrugged. "Still, it's not all bad." He nudged her with his elbow, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"What are you…" She deadpanned as he gestured up at the castle. "Oh…you…you're nothing but a skirt-chaser still!" She shoved him, shaking her head disparagingly.

"At least it's only the one now!" Zidane ducked as she swung at him lazily.

Freya smiled, oddly comforted by how her friend hadn't really changed in some ways.

"You're impossible." She laughed softly. "Queen Garnet has my undying sympathy for putting up with you."

"Mine too." He grinned. "C'mon, she'll want to see you too. Eiko is in town but she'll be back later as well."

"Wait, listen." Freya interrupted, suddenly remembering the incident in the alleyway. "I saw something on the way here, a group of men beating up a kid and threatening a burmecian girl."

Zidane frowned, nodding.

"Be honest with me Zidane, is this happening a lot?"

"More recently. It's getting bad, Garnet hasn't slept well the last few nights worrying about it." He sighed briefly, then the frown was gone as suddenly as it had appeared, replaced with the familiar determined stare. "We'll go see her, maybe now you're here there's something we can do, or come up with."

Freya allowed him to lead her into the castle, dragged along by his usual mix of persistence, excitement and energy, even if she didn't completely believe it herself.

She had been away too long.

…

Amarant loped through the streets of the city, not caring for the people around him, or in front of him as they struggled to get out of his path. He didn't know where he was going, and couldn't care less as long as it didn't take him any closer to the castle.

He wasn't running away. He didn't do that. Amarant had spent his life running towards problems, or simply running. Often enough, that created its own problems as he went. He wasn't sulking, he had something important to do.

He'd know how important as soon as he found something to do and decided whether it was worth doing.

The sun was setting, slowly. The still-bustling streets were bathed in a last flash of warm orange light. Before long, shadows started to grow and stretch across the city streets, and a thousand and more lanterns of myriad colours cast their own light on their surroundings, illuminating the city.

He was pretending to look over the contents of a nearby stall, a collection of wooden hand-crafted toys for children, when out of the corner of his eye he saw it, a flash of red and white. He tried to follow it, but lost it quickly. His senses were suddenly on the alert, even accidentally, he rarely lost sight of a target once he'd given it his attention. That he'd already lost sight of it said to him this was somebody who didn't want to be seen.

Naturally, he now wanted to see them.

Amarant slid through the crowd, his eyes scanning for the one he'd seen. His task wasn't made any easier by the garishly dressed citizens of Alexandria, or the pennants and lanterns and…there was just too much to distract the-

He caught a flash of red again, a coat? Something familiar, something pulled at him. As he skirted around a group of excited summoners his goal suddenly came into view.

The crowd parted, but only for a moment, and he saw. The red coat, tall hat, pale, lightly furred skin, the white hair and, as they turned and their eyes connected, the violent purple eyes.

It was like an electric shock running through his body as he stopped in his tracks.

It was Freya, standing there, staring at him. Unmistakably her. What was she doing, what…

Freya spun quickly, breaking into a run.

Amarant's mind struggled to keep up, what had just happened? Something felt off, something wasn't quite right, what was she doing here? Why did she run? Something else was tugging at his conscious, and it wasn't just that he was sure Freya would never stoop so low as to run away from him.

He couldn't help but half-chuckle at her usual obstinance in the face of his often greater obstinance. He remembered earlier, the way her eyes flared from beneath her striking hair, wild and green-

"Damn idiot!" Amarant cursed himself, bursting into a run in pursuit of the…whoever they were.

Freya had green eyes.

…

Freya lounged idly on the bed of the quarters she'd been provided with. Zidane had left her a few hours ago to let her freshen up, and truthfully she had been grateful for the opportunity to bathe the air of the journey off of her, and grateful for the chance to change into a new set of clothes.

Zidane had seemingly thought of everything, going so far as to see the room was stocked with a variety of burmecian casual to formal outfits, mostly made up of attire of a more…masculine style. At least he'd remembered that particular preference, though she'd noted with some dubiousness, several dresses and suchlike mingled in with the rest.

Certainly wouldn't be wearing those any time soon, she mused. Mother and father would certainly not have approved of who their little girl had grown into. Even back then, as a child, she'd vehemently rebelled against what was expected of her

She'd laid out a set of fairly formal clothes, a white silk shirt with loose-fitting sleeves, a black waistcoat, a pair of fine-fit dark grey trousers that reached a little way below her knees and a pair of smooth leather gaiters, if only to be polite, for her feet. Humans could be funny about things like that.

She'd decided against a hat, in a rare moment of indecision. Garnet was a queen now, and it didn't seem proper, or respectful. Instead, she had straightened her hair, letting it hang sleek and free to just above her shoulders, with her fringe covering half her face.

It was dark out now, so she decided it was as good a time as ever to dress. Freya rolled lazily to her feet, divesting herself of the simple robe she'd been in and began to pull on the clothes, in front of a full-length mirror set in the corner of the room.

It frustrated her that she still hadn't been able to fully free her mind of that infuriating two-bit bandit and his endlessly antagonistic behaviour. She knew it shouldn't nearly annoy her as much as it was, she told herself she should have been far more used to it by now. He thrived on her anger, her frustration, her…

Her left ear twitched suddenly, sending a shiver down her spine. She turned to the door of her room, sensing something…not quite right beyond. Her hands fell to her sides, leaving her shirt buttoned only halfway, and her waistcoat undone.

Running almost purely on instinct, she opened the door to her room and stepped into the corridors. It was only dimly lit, and there were no staff or guards in sight. Her ears twitched still, reacting to something she couldn't see, or even really hear. She sniffed the air, tentatively, picking up…something.

She hissed in irritation.

Something was certainly…off.

She chided herself for thinking it, but it was too quiet. There should have been footsteps and muttering in the hallways, echoes of voices and conversation. Even if for some reason there was nobody but her in this section of the castle at this moment, there would be…

This wasn't the absence of sound, it was sound concealed by something hiding in it.

Freya wandered down the empty corridor, past dozens of other quiet rooms, before coming out into a large hall that fed onto several other hallways to other parts of the castle. It was well decorated and finely furnished, with a large polished floor and many, many windows. It even had a glass dome. Moonlight shone through, casting a white sphere onto the dark floor.

Freya's senses were going haywire. Her fine fur was even standing on end. Somebody, _something_ maybe was in here with her. She slowly paced toward the left side of the room, walking by a suit of armour. Casually, she relieved it of the heavy rapier, positioned under its gauntlet.

She wasn't as skilled with a sword, she thought while giving it a few test swings, but she felt better for being armed. The thin blade of the sword cut through the air sharply, creating the only sound in the unnaturally still hall.

Freya had never been so sure of anything in her life, somebody was in here, and she sensed nothing but danger.

"Come out, then." She muttered to herself, circling the centre of the room.

"As you wish!" A voice called from above.

Freya looked up, barely having time to leap aside as her opponent almost dropped on her head.

Instantly, she was under attack. Already she had lost the advantage, she had been caught by surprise, she was fighting with a weapon she was less familiar with, while her opponent was not, and her opponent…

Her eyes widened as she took in their attire. The heavy red coat, the headwear of a burmecian dragoon, the white hair, the lance…

It was her.

She parried, barely avoiding being impaled as her mind struggled to keep up. It wasn't just a burmecian, this woman looked like her, fought like her…

She ducked a thrust just like one she'd have made, then blocked an attempt to sweep her legs from under her. But the clash threw out sparks as metal scarred metal, blinding her for a fraction of a second. It was all her foe needed.

While she attempted to regain her footing, the lancer sidestepped smoothly, slipping behind her and batting the sword from her hands with the butt of the spear. A strong arm closed around her neck and she grabbed it out of instinct, trying to claw herself free. Already her breathing was becoming laboured.

"Going to need your help, Lady Crescent." A voice so like her own, but different, rasped, cruelly.

"W-what…?" She choked.

"You're going to kill the Queen." The voice continued.

A sharp pain exploded in the back of Freya's skull, then darkness came and she knew no more.


	6. Rat Race

A/N: I've done it to myself again, this is going to turn into another long one. I can see it all stretching out ahead already.

A curse on my inability to stick to an initial plan. Let there be action and drama and romance and antagonistic banter!

...

Zidane paced the corridors quickly, increasingly uneasy. He'd gone to find Freya twenty minutes ago, only to find her door open and her room empty. Naturally he'd assume she'd gotten tired of waiting and had gone to see Garnet but chamber for smaller private audiences with the Queen was noticeably empty of Freya _and_ Garnet.

He knew Freya didn't know where Garnet's room was, but he'd checked there anyway, and found it distressingly empty of Freya, Garnet _and _guards.

Though he tried not to admit it to himself, he was getting worried. A pall of anxiety was settling over him and the more rooms he checked, fruitlessly, the worse he felt.

He tried another door, and finding it locked, turned his shoulder to it and smashed through without thinking. He looked up, only to get an eyeful of a barely clothed Beatrix and…_Steiner._

"Sweet merciful-" He flung his arm across his eyes, turning around and scrambling back to the hallway.

"Zidane?!" Steiner blurted, rolling off the bed. Beatrix cried out, thrown off the bed by his sudden movement and letting out a stream of violent curses.

"I'm sorry!" He cried, trying in vain to wipe the image from his mind as he remained resolutely in the corridor.

"The door was locked you little-" Beatrix yelled, furious.

He couldn't see around the corner, a fact for which he could not have been more glad, but he assumed the two were hurriedly dressing.

"I know-" He interrupted. "Look, I don't suppose either of you have seen Garnet or Freya in the last hour or so?"

"Freya is back?" Beatrix called out, puzzled.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact. Sticks out a bit 'round here." Steiner replied. "Saw her on her way to the private audience chamber, half hour ago maybe. She didn't stop to say hello though and I…um…" Steiner trailed off.

"Other obligations?" Zidane added, innocently. "There's nobody there now though, not in the room I had made for Freya either, or Garnet's room. No guards too." He continued, mind

"No guards?" Beatrix sounded more interested now.

"No." He called back. "I'm…getting a bit worried. I mean, it's probably nothing, but…"

He heard a sigh from within.

"Steiner, I'm going to organise the guards in a search of the castle. Get a few of your knights together and-"

"I'll go with Zidane." The man assured her.

Zidane made a sickly face as he heard the sound of kissing inside, even though it was kind of sweet. He was happy for Steiner, even if it was Steiner.

Seconds later, Beatrix strode out fully-dressed, shooting him a glare that made his blood freeze, before stalking away. Steiner came out moments later, dressed in a pair of tall leather boots, brown pants, a cream coloured shirt and a brown informal jacket. Zidane did a little double-take, unable to recall the last time he'd seen the man out of his armour.

He looked almost human.

"Right, let's go."

Zidane nodded, and together they continued their search, while Steiner called any Pluto Knight in the vicinity to follow him.

"Beatrix won't be happy if this is all for nothing." The former thief spoke up.

"She'll be happier knowing its nothing, than knowing it isn't." Steiner replied, grimly.

…

Freya's head pounded, as the first tendrils of consciousness probed through her muddled brain. Tentatively she opened one eye, squinting as the sudden influx of light made her head feel even worse.

"It's okay." A soft voice cooed, rubbing her forehead.

As Freya's world came into focus, she found herself looking up at somebody. Eventually, that somebody stopped blurring and turned into Garnet.

"Hello, Freya." Garnet smiled, sympathetically. "This wasn't quite how I'd hoped we'd meet again."

"Your majesty?" Freya blurted.

"Please, it's Garnet to you, of all people." The girl tilted her head, kindly.

Her long dark framed her kind face, strands falling over her shoulders. She, like Zidane, had matured somewhat, but was still recognisably the girl she remembered. Perhaps some of the lines of her face had straightened, and were less soft. She was wearing a fairly simple tan dress with short sleeves.

As the feeling returned to parts of her body, she became aware she was laying in the younger girl's lap, looking up at her. She frowned as flashes of the fight came to her.

"Garnet, are you alright, where is-" Freya began, trying to sit up, only to find her hands were tied in front of her. She gave the bonds an ineffectual tug, somehow knowing her opponent wouldn't have done a bad job on the knots. Freya wouldn't have either.

"I'm not sure." Garnet shrugged, knowing who she was talking about. "She left about ten minutes ago. I'm sure she'll be back though. Freya…she…she looks like…" Garnet began, cautiously.

"I know." Freya replied.

"But she even sounds like…I mean…" Garnet's brow creased softly.

"It's not me."

"It?"

"It looks like me, it moves like me, it almost even sounds like me." Freya hissed. "But it's not me. I'm me."

"Mm." Garnet nodded, troubled.

"Why didn't you fight? Call for help? Anything? She…it…whatever, it wants to hurt you." Freya continued.

"She had you." Garnet said softly. "You were already hurt and she said she'd hurt you more if I didn't go with her."

Freya grimaced slightly, looking away from her friends concerned gaze.

"Oh." She replied, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of being the cause of their current predicament.

"What happened, did she hurt you bad?" Garnet asked, worriedly.

"Might have been worse." Freya asked, recalling the brief fight. "It had the advantage. I learnt to choose my battles, and I wasn't going to win that one."

"You let her beat you?"

"I let it beat me quicker than if I'd dragged it out, let's say." She explained. "I could have fought on, but I'd definitely have come out of it worse, and then I'd have had worse odds now."

"Still…" Garnet's brow furrowed in concern.

Freya was not accustomed with being weak, and being the cause of somebody else's weakness did not sit well with her. She realised Garnet was stroking her hair softly, and resolved it was about time to stop sitting around.

"Right. Time to get you out of…where are we?"

"One of the upper rooms, out of use these days." Garnet replied. "I think it might have been a dance conservatory, once." She eyed the smooth wooden floor and the large screen doors which fed onto a balcony beyond.

"Hm. Well. No use sitting around." Freya managed to struggle into a sitting position, then regarded her bound hands. She took a deep breath, readying herself for what she was about to do. "Look away, Garnet."

"What, why?"

"Just do it."

Garnet turned the other way, staring hard at the door through which their captor had left not long ago. She was sure she'd be back soon. Suddenly, she heard a series of…_unnatural_ pops and cracks of a…bonelike quality. She cringed, winced and gritted her teeth as they continued, and she realised what Freya was doing.

"You-" Garnet twitched following another loud crack. "-aren't."

"Sorry." Freya murmured, sounding strained, clearly sensing Garnet's discomfort. "Shit." She hissed, following yet another series of painful movements.

Garnet's eyes strayed once more to the door.

…

"This is insane, the castle is huge, we'll never find them!" Zidane slammed his fist into a wall as they ran, throwing open doors and turning the place upside down.

"You'd better not be giving up." Steiner added, the disapproval in his voice clear.

"Of course I'm not!" Zidane snapped, turning on the larger man. "I love her!"

Steiner smirked a little, and the younger man frowned. Zidane hated being baited.

"Good."

The sound of a large group of armoured footfalls drew their attention. Beatrix burst around the corner, followed by a dozen armed women.

"The windows in the east lounge!" She yelled, barging past the two men and the few knights.

"What!?" Zidane yelled back, chasing after her.

"Spotted somebody climbing the outside of the castle!"

Zidane's mind flew to the myriad paths and routes he'd spent a year constructing on the castle walls to different parts of the structure.

"I…wouldn't know a thing about that."

Beatrix rammed open the door to the lounge. Like most of the rooms, it too was finely furnished. Several walls were lined with bookcases and there was an assortment of tables, chairs and grandiose sofas. It was one of the number of rooms set aside for hosting guests.

"Are you sure it's-" Steiner began.

"There!" One of the soldiers pointed.

Zidane looked and swore loudly. Amarant was clambering up the window frame, slowly but steadily.

"Amarant!" He pushed his way to the front and up against the window. The dreadlocked outlaw noticed him and had the gall to half-wave, as if he wasn't doing anything wrong. He forced open the window from outside, pausing to catch his breath.

"No time, Tribal. Something's wrong."

"I know," Zidane began. "Freya and Garnet are missing and…what the hell are you doing anyway?"

"Freya was the last to be seen with her, and…" Beatrix frowned, grim. "The guards on the Queens chamber were found dead."

Amarant rubbed his chin.

"Chasing somebody. Dead spit of Crescent, 'cept for the eyes."

"So you say." Beatrix muttered, unimpressed.

"Yeah." Amarant growled back.

"Freya would never do…whatever it is you're accusing her of!" Zidane snapped.

"She's not accusing the burmecian of anything." Steiner tried to placate the growing argument.

"Her name is Freya." Zidane retorted.

"I don't have time for this. I lost enough time when I lost that copycat in the market."

"You, wait!" Beatrix objected, but Amarant was already on his way up again.

"Amarant, where are they!" Zidane thrust his head out the window, looking up.

Amarant grumbled and looked back down.

"Think like the thief you were, Tribal. Think like a rat!" He called down, chuckling briefly at the coincidence. "You don't trap yourself somewhere you can't get out of!"

Zidane slid back in, mind racing. The roof. There were a dozen or more abandoned rooms and such up there, old balconies and the like.

"The upper floors!" Zidane yelled, running from the lounge. Beatrix, Steiner and the knights and soldiers followed behind.

…

"…nnrrggh…done." Freya gasped.

Garnet opened her eyes, seeing Freya shaking one wrist painfully while the ropes fell limp from her other hand.

"Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine." Freya nodded, getting to her feet. But she was unable to disguise the wince as she put pressure on her right hand. She took Garnet's hand with her left, pulling her up and along behind her as she made for the door. "Let's go."

Garnet jumped as Freya opened the door only to be faced with a mirror image of herself, only she was clad in Freya's usual outfit, while Freya now wasn't.

"Very impressive." The double grinned. "I underestimated you."

"If you were me you wouldn't have, so what are you?" Freya retorted. She held an arm protectively in front of Garnet, gradually edging backwards.

"There are apparently some…gaps…in my memory."

"You _aren't_ me." Freya snarled, baring her teeth.

Garnet withdrew slightly, unable to recall a time she'd seen the usually so composed burmecian like this.

The double stepped forward, and continued pacing slowly toward them as they backed further and further toward the open screen doors. Freya reached out for one of the bars running along the walls and with a grunt of effort, tore a section free.

She twirled it in one hand, getting a feel for the weight. It was lighter than her lance, and her right hand was near useless, and she had to worry about Garnet. Realistically, she could only see this fight going worse than the last one.

"You're in no state to fight me." Her double grinned, twirling her own, more deadly weapon in an act of mimicry. "Give up and I might only break one thing, and it'll even heal eventually."

Freya and Garnet were back up against the stone railing on the balcony. She shivered in the cold air of the night, remembering she wasn't exactly dressed for outdoors.

"Don't be so sure." Freya muttered, though she knew her double was right.

"Please." Her own face sneered back cruelly, eyes flashing in the moonlight. "I don't need you dead."

"You don't need me…" Freya muttered, picking up her words. "You're working for somebody? Somebody who won't let you kill me." She said aloud as the realisation took.

The duplicate's face flashed with irritation for a second, before being replaced with the same sneer again.

"I don't need you in good health, either." The double hissed. "You've delayed enough."

"Garnet, stay behind me." Freya ordered.

Her double came on, bringing the lance down hard as Freya raised the pole, blocking the strike. Her right wrist exploded in pain under the weight of the blow and she cried out, stumbling backward. At the same time, the door into the conservatory smashed open and Zidane, Beatrix, Steiner and over a dozen armed and armoured men and women poured in.

"Zidane!" Garnet cried.

"Garnet!" The genome cried, drawing his daggers. "And Freya….and…Freya?"

"Stand away from her majesty, everybody!" Beatrix roared, quickly becoming frustrated with her loose grasp of events. "What the hell is going on?!"

"No time for this." The double hissed.

Before anybody could react, she darted forward. Freya tensed to block her, but Garnet's arms were suddenly around her chest and she felt herself pulled backward. She blinked as the blade of her opponents lance cut the air inches from where her shoulder had been, instead, all three of them became tangled.

Freya heard Zidane and the others shouting as the momentum of the crash tipped all three over the side of the balcony. Cold air rushed through her air, cooling her skin and blowing through her loose shirt. She breathed in sharply as gravity took over. With extreme difficulty, she managed to grab Garnet's wrist and with her right hand, a protruding section of masonry.

She cursed loudly and repeatedly, eyes squeezed shut, as she and Garnet came to a sudden and violent halt. Her wrist literally burned with agony at their combined weight and the sudden stop.

"Freya!" Garnet breathed, hanging onto her hand and swinging in the wind below her.

She opened her eyes and saw her double hanging on to another bit of architecture to her right. It had lost its weapon, and was glaring at her.

Above, Zidane and Steiner were yelling at her to hold on, as if she was going to do anything else right now.

"Smooth." Freya managed a pained smirk.

Her double snarled at her.

Freya's smirk faded as the stone she clung to shifted suddenly, and a few fragments crumbled and fell past her face.

…

Amarant stopped for a second to catch his breath, briefly wondering if for once his stubbornness really was more trouble than it was worth. Then he'd looked up and see three people tumble over the side of a balcony, latching onto the crumbling old walls up here.

Damn them all, Amarant thought smugly, he was always right about everything.

As he climbed, he saw Freya holding onto Garnet, and the other Freya across from her. It began to clamber down, clearly seeking to make its escape.

Well, he'd put a stop to that.

Garnet suddenly cried out and he looked up again. Somehow the smaller girl had made it to the edge of the balcony and the kid and the armoured idiot were helping her up. As he tried once again to focus on the escaping doppleganger, a series of shouts pulled his attention upward again.

Freya was falling.

He scanned his surroundings quickly. There was nothing, nothing at all, nothing but-

About twenty yards across was a second tower. Some way below a large window looked out over the upper reaches of the castle. He glanced upward, and down at the window again.

The would-be assassin was slipping out of sight, he could still catch her if he tried. Freya continued to fall. He could catch the doppleganger though, stop whatever all this was about, find out the truth.

Freya fell further.

He growled at the back of his throat, making the only choice he could.

Rats. The things he did for them.

…

"Trust me, Garnet." Freya breathed out.

"What?" The girl asked, cautiously.

"Zidane!" Freya roared.

With a last burst of energy, Freya bit down the agony in her arms and heaved, swinging the slight girl up with all her might. Garnet practically screamed, sailing upward just enough to be caught by the waiting hands of her lover and her old guard.

The masonry she clung to cracked at that moment and she fell again. Once more the heady sensation of falling into nothing washed over her, but she didn't mind as much, now that she knew Garnet was safe.

"Freya!" Zidane, and others shouted after her.

She couldn't focus. It wouldn't hurt much, she didn't think. It frustrated her that she'd never find out where that…creature had come from, or why it was after her. Or why it had wanted to kill Garnet, or where it had come from, or…a lot of things really.

The strangest sensation though, was the bitter disappointment that she wouldn't get another chance to put that jumped up Treno bounty hunter in his-

The world suddenly stopped. Something large crashed into her, someone, wrapping her in their arms and together they cannoned through the air away from the wall.

"Shut your-" A voice roared, drowned out by the deafening sound of shattering glass all around them.

They smashed into a table, tumbling across the room tangled up in one another, before finally coming to a stop in a pile of debris.

After a moment of making sure she was still alive, Freya allowed herself to breathe out.

She noticed the scarred, oddly coloured skin, the reptilian tattoo on one of the arms. The long, red dreadlocks. Turning her head slightly, she saw the bearded, angular face it belonged to.

"Amarant?" She murmured.

The head turned toward her, she saw a flash of dark eyes buried beneath the locks.

"Crescent." He greeted, as if nothing had happened. "You…uh…alright?"

"…yeah."

She noted their proximity, somewhat uncomfortably. He was half on top of her, still shielding her. Fragments of glass and table remains littered the floor around and over them. His head dropped slightly, mouth slightly open as he looked her over, then back up.

She looked down, seeing the state of her shirt, torn and ragged and how much of her upper torso was on show. More out of habit than anything, she pulled it a little tighter, up to the base of her neck.

Amarant chuckled in that throaty way at her reaction and she bristled, irritably.

"You got nothin' t' hide, Crescent." He smirked, expecting-

"Bastard!" She growled, shoving him off her with surprising strength.

He rolled to one side, feeling infinitely pleased with himself as she pulled herself to a sitting position, leaning against the back of a pillar. She was breathing heavily, covered in a number of smaller cuts and bruises, but if she was well enough to snap back at him then she was okay.

Her pale hair was damp, matted with a combination of sweat and grease, strands of it plastered to her skin and covering her face.

"She got away." He faced her, rolling onto his stomach and resting on his arms.

Freya nodded, glancing at the shattered window.

Neither said anything for a few moments, the only sound in the darkened room their heavy breathing.

Amarant had been about to get up when her voice cut through the gloom.

"You could have caught her."

"Yeah." He replied, seeing no point in lying.

"If I hadn't gotten in the way." Her tone bled guilt, he found an odd sense of…protectiveness surge in his chest.

"If that tincan idiot was better at his job, if that one eyed bitch could guard a queen, if Tribal could find his own tail, if Garnet had a damn spine! If, if, if! Don't give me that!" He ranted, slamming his fist into the floor.

The room fell quiet again for a few moments, after his outburst. Once again, the only sound their own breathing.

"Thank you." Freya spoke, softly.

He turned back to the burmecian, to find she was looking at him, expression…unfamiliar, he was uncomfortable to admit. He stared back, unable to accept that he didn't actually know what to say.

The fine hairs coating her skin glowed a little in the fractured light of the moon outside, her green eyes, Freya's true eyes, were watching him. He began to feel…strange.

"…mmmnn." He grunted, with a nod, looking away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her mouth curl in a slight smile. He struggled to hide the tiny smirk pulling at his own lips.

Soon enough, the others would find them, and there would be a lot of questions and problems and things to work out, but for now the two remained, quiet, alone in the dark.


	7. Adapt

A/N: Bit of a wind-down this time folks. Some set-up, some banter, some development.

...

By the time Freya as able to crawl out of the conference chamber, it was well into the afternoon of the next day. Though they had spent a good six or seven hours in discussion, in truth there was little they knew, and little to be done. Her doppleganger had escaped and Freya knew absolutely nothing about who or what it really was, or from where it had come. Beatrix had not been happy, but there was little to anybody could say to alleviate her concerns.

The end result had been a considerable raise in security in the castle, which Steiner supported fully. Zidane didn't look impressed, obviously hating that this wasn't just another enemy they could go out and fight.

Amarant hadn't even showed, but nobody expected him to.

Freya loosened the collar of her shirt, the room had been stuffy and warm, and she was glad to be out of it. This was certainly not what she'd had in mind when she left Burmecia. She wanted nothing more than to sit back and relax for a while, but her hand…

It felt better, but not well enough to use her lance as effectively as she should, and she sensed this was not over. She could not continue unable to defend either herself or others. Mind made up, she began walking to one of the open-air quads scattered around the castle.

She'd secured a heavy rapier, along with several other fine blades, for herself from the castle smith. It was much like the one she'd used briefly the night before. Okay, so her right hand was little use as of now, so she would focus on her left. Freya had never mastered the sword, but she knew more than a few sword drills, it was a good enough place to start.

Training had always been effective for clearing her mind, and there was much on her mind today. That…creature that looked like her, she had no doubt it was working at the behest of somebody. It had let slip she was needed, and not dead at that. For some reason, that worried her more. Her friend, Garnet, had been targeted for assassination too. Why anybody which wish the gentle girl dead was beyond her. And then there was that infuriating all-but-criminal, Amarant.

He had saved her life, last night.

It wasn't that she thought even Amarant would let one of their companions simply die, but…

He was usually such an…he acted, he focused on one thing. He could have caught her double easily, instead, he made the conscious choice to let the creature go to save her.

The memory flashed in her mind. The red-headed giant literally flew out of nowhere, carrying them across the precipice and through a window.

Perhaps she was reading too much into it, in her expression Amarant had never been a complicated individual but…there were times…

She shook her head.

It was a pleasant enough afternoon, the sun wasn't a distraction. She unbuttoned her waistcoat, hanging it on a bench on one side of the quad, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. With a look of determination, she lifted the sword in her left hand, familiarising herself with the weight, and began.

…

Zidane left the castle courtyard, crossing the bridge which led to the city-proper. That meeting had been intolerable and while he had wanted nothing more than to spend some time with Garnet, alone, she had politely insisted they wait while she sorted out some things.

He couldn't believe the way Beatrix and Steiner were treating Freya as almost some kind of a suspect. She'd nearly died trying to save Garnet and if Amarant hadn't…well, he hated to think.

He remembered the moment vividly, looking over the balcony, helpless as Freya fell. Then near out of nowhere, Amarant had catapulted himself across the void, taking Freya in mid-air and crashing together through the window of the tower opposite. He'd almost been unable to believe it had actually happened.

Sometimes he wasn't sure the outlaw had any surprises left, then he pulled a stunt like that.

Amarant was the reason he was out here now. Zidane couldn't stand the stifling sense of…impotence in the face of this threat, and if anyone was likely to at least consider some kind of action, it was Coral.

Admittedly, he wasn't sure how to actually _find_ Amarant though. The bounty hunter often seemed to simply find you, rather than the other way around. Maybe if he-

"Tribal."

Zidane jumped, raising his arms in a combat stance only to see the lanky giant leaning back on the thick stone railing, running along the sides of the bridge.

"What-…why-…Do you just stand around here often?" Zidane managed, once his heart had stopped trying to force its way out of his chest.

Amarant merely shrugged his large shoulders.

"Thought someone might come lookin'." He rubbed his chin idly with one finger. "Outt'a respect, thought I'd make it easy. Wasn't expectin' you though." Amarant turned to him briefly, before looking out across the bridge again.

"Sorry to disappoint you." Zidane crossed his arms.

"You can't disappoint me anymore'n you usually do." Amarant began picking his teeth.

"That's great." Zidane blindsided the usual insults, deciding to get to the point before he pushed the man into the river. "Look, I want you to help me do something about this. Freya's double is gone, but I don't think this is over. They just want to wait, but I can't just sit around."

"'m inclined t' agree." Amarant nodded slightly.

"You are?" Zidane blinked, surprised. "Oh. Good. So where do we start?"

"When's the Queen announcin' the new visitors?"

Zidane frowned in confusion, then his eyes widened a little. How the hell did he-

"You…uh…know about them?"

"A few hundred burmecians turn up out of nowhere and are put up in a vacant wing of the castle?" Amarant laughed, sharply.

"Well nobody else knows!" Zidane insisted, in a tone of voice that suggested they should be talking more quietly. "How did you find out?"

"Everybody else is an idiot then." He replied plainly. "And you'd be surprised how much people try to forget they've seen someone like me walking around."

"It was…well…we wanted to sort of surprise Freya. We thought it'd cheer her up. They only arrived a few days before she did."

"You don't find that a bit odd?"

"Well…a little." ZIdane conceded. "But they're her people, we can't treat them like criminals!" He argued back.

"Admirable." Amarant added, in the same voice he'd bemoan treading in chocobo shit. "Know who they are yet? Where they come from?"

"No. We've sent word to the council in Burmecia, but much of the knowledge of the old noble houses is known only to Puck these days, and he hasn't returned from his travels yet." Zidane frowned in thought. "I suppose…I suppose Freya might know a little. I mean, I don't know a lot about her past before we met but I'm sure she mentioned once, coming from a fairly old family."

"Hmm." Amarant nodded again.

"So…what do we do?" Zidane asked again, half-regretting involving the giant man at all.

"Know y' quarry Tribal." Amarant stood up straight, looking toward the castle. "Don't fight an enemy you don't know how to beat."

The dreadlocked figure strode on, leaving a perplexed Zidane in his wake.

"Wait…enemy?" He balked, hurrying after him.

…

Garnet continued along the corridors, doing her best to ignore Steiner's clearly evident discomfort.

"You don't have to come, Steiner." She offered, knowing how he'd respond.

"Afraid I do, your majesty." The man adjusted one of the armoured pauldrons on his shoulder. "I've been remiss in my duties."

"You haven't."

"If I'd been-"

"Oh Steiner," Garnet stopped, turning back to him sadly. ", it's not your fault. I don't need you to follow me every minute of every day, like before. I thought you'd moved beyond this. You have become such a good man."

"The man I've become could not protect you." He frowned.

"That's not true." Garnet shook her head. "And I like the man you've become."

"Well…maybe I can…ease up a little." He nodded stiffly, embarrassed by her habitual kindness.

"I mean to take steps which will make such a thing easier for you." Garnet added, her resolve strengthening.

"Steps?" Steiner pondered aloud.

The pair came out into a quad, with a finely trimmed lawn in the centre. On it, Freya Crescent was practicing with a sword. She was so involved, she hadn't yet noticed the newcomers, and Garnet had no wish to interrupt her.

She watched the agile burmecians quick movements and unshakeable balance and form. It was like watching a dance. Freya's skin glistened slightly, and her shirt clung to her, damp with sweat.

"Majesty?" Steiner asked, quietly.

"One moment, let her finish."

Watching Freya was truly a sight to behold. Though she trained in an art devoted to violence, there was something graceful, elegant almost, about it. In one fluid movement, Freya slid back on one foot, lowering herself and threw the sword upward. She spun, her outstretched leg sliding across the grass like it was ice and she held up a hand, catching the weapon and thrusting it forward.

Steiner let out a low whistle of awe, then winced as Garnet glared at him.

Freya looked up, suddenly becoming aware she was no longer alone. She lowered the sword, sheathing it and bowed slightly as the two approached.

"Sorry we…_interrupted_." Garnet shot Steiner another look.

"Right…sorry." He added.

"That's alright." Freya smiled, mopping her brow. "How can I help?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you actually," Garnet began, clutching her hands in front of her nervously. "I wondered if you'd teach me how to…" Her eyes wandered to the sword in Freya's hand.

"You know how to fight." Freya replied, puzzled.

"Well enough." Garnet shrugged. "But what happens when "well enough" doesn't cut it? I want you to teach me how to really use a sword."

"I'm probably not the best teacher, I was practicing for a reason." Freya chuckled slightly. "But…"

Garnet watched the woman jog over to a bench across the quad and stoop to pick up a second blade. She brought it over again and held it out.

"It's a lighter blade. Straight-backed sabre with a slight curve at the tip. I picked up two because I wasn't sure which weight I'd prefer, but…here."

Garnet took it and half-unsheathed it.

"So, you'll do it?"

"I suppose…I mean if you liked, I'd be happy to run through what I do know with you, for an hour or so each day. The basics at least, until you can get a better teacher."

"Thank you."

Freya waved her gratitude off, embarrassed.

"For now though, if you'll excuse me," The burmecian picked at the sweat-stained cotton of her shirt, distastefully. ", I think I'd quite like to-"

"Oh, one…well…two more things, please." Garnet laid a hand on Freya's arm.

"Yes?"

"Well, the festival we're planning will be soon. It is intended to be a celebration of all the cultures and races of our lands and nations. Food, songs, carnivals and games…the whole city will be opened to accommodate it. One aspect we hoped to recreate, with the help of some of your people living here, at their suggestion actually…" Garnet rambled.

"Go on." Freya prompted, feeling her stomach churn.

"They…we…wished to put on a performance of the Cleyran ritual dance, in one of the biggest city-squares. A show for all the city. Few burmecians are left that know it, though we have a number, and it would be such a shame for more of your history to simply…disappear."

"You…wish me to take part?" Freya winced slightly, recalling the last time she had.

Cleyra had been destroyed. Admittedly, it hadn't been their fault, and technically the ritual had succeeded, but still, their failure to save the city soured her memories further.

"I understand how that must make you feel, you would not be alone, in your conclusions." Garnet smiled sympathetically. "But this is a chance to show Alexandria that your people are recovering, that your people should not simply be forgotten."

Much of her was screaming to simply refuse, to leave it in the past with the rest and let it vanish. But Garnet was right, this was a chance…

"I will…think on it." Freya answered, hesitantly.

Garnet's hopeful smile grew a little and behind her, she was sure even Steiner looked pleased.

"What was the second thing?"

Garnet's smile turned grew wider and she suddenly became very excited, taking Freya's hand in hers.

"It's a bit of a surprise, in a way." She grinned. "But there are some people you might like to meet. They arrived a few days before you, and apparently they've come a long way. A very long way I think, they don't seem to know anything about the world today, but when I told them about our quest to save Gaia, and your role in it, their leader expressed a desire to meet you in person."

"Who…what are you talking about?" Freya asked, confused.

"Come with me. You'll see." Garnet beamed, dragging the reluctant burmecian along behind her.


	8. The Visitors

A/N: This was one long-azzzz scene to write, and I'm sorry to say its probably not even very interesting, but it was about time to make this introduction and get in a few hints about what's going to happen in future.

...

"Looks like we'll get our chance." Zidane chatted to Amarant as the man strolled along beside him, through the main hall to the throne room.

It was some hours after their talk on the bridge, when word had suddenly spread of an important address from the Queen. All around them, the most important nobles and representatives of the kingdom present in the city had rushed to the castle. Finely dressed figures of all races entered the castle alongside the strange pair, consisting the young blonde genome and the red-haired giant.

"Hm?" Amarant grunted.

"You know, to scope out our…uh…enemy?" He laughed nervously.

"Believe what you like."

"I'm just saying, you're assuming a lot." Zidane shrugged.

"So is everybody else." The outlaw muttered. "You invite a few hundred people you don't know into the castle, how many guards do you even have here?"

"I don't know." Zidane shrugged again. "Beatrix and Steiner handle all that."

"How did somebody as incompetent as you end up saving us all." Amarant shook his head, disbelievingly.

"Hey!" Zidane objected, crossing his arms. "Incompetent? Beat your blue ass in a fight didn't I?"

"Hmph."

Zidane grinned.

"So did Freya, come to that."

Amarant growled. Several rich-looking, well-dressed people suddenly gave them a wider berth.

"Have you talked to her since-"

"No."

"Don't you think you should-"

"No."

"Don't you think she'd like to-"

"No."

Zidane paused, cheeky grin smeared across his face. Even for Amarant this was…defensive. Was he embarrassed? This was too much an opportunity to miss. He opened his mouth to say something else.

"Tribal, I swear on Gaia if you speak again I'll rip out y' tongue and feed it t' you."

The words shrivelled up in his throat, and he laughed nervously. He turned his attention dead ahead.

"Oh look, here we are!" He observed, stating the obvious, if only to change the subject.

They and the crowd filtered into the huge throne room. The audience, as he could only think of it, was divided into two, on the left and right sides of the room. The centre was left free in the form of a walkway, and something of a stage, he assumed.

For once, he was glad to have Amarant along. The intimidating figure found his way through the crowd to the front easily, not even needing to push as people hurried out of his way and Zidane followed in his wake, apologising to anybody and everybody.

"Have you seen them yet then?" Amarant asked, suddenly.

"I met their leader with Garnet. He's some kinda lord or something. Hilden? Holda? Holder? Haulden?"

He noticed Amarant was ignoring him, looking instead towards the throne. Zidane followed his gaze.

At the far end of the hall, Garnet was seated on the throne, dressed in a fairly regal looking dress, adorned sparsely with a few jewels and fine fabrics, but such a vivid red that it looked perhaps more showy than it was. He knew she disliked all the regalia and traditional attire that came with her responsibilities, and was probably wishing she was elsewhere right now, but she carried herself well. There was no clue to her discomfort behind the gentle smile that never left her features.

Steiner and Beatrix had taken up position either side of the throne, stood slightly further back. Behind them, about a dozen more guards flanking them. To Garnet's left, he noticed Freya, stood slightly out of the way, as if she didn't want to be noticed. Her hands were clutched in front of her, and she was clearly still favouring her right.

Given what he'd heard she did, he could understand why, though he wasn't sure why she hadn't just gone to a healer.

She was dressed pretty formally, he observed, even considering her usual attire. She was wearing a pair of black velvet pants, a white silk-looking blouse with a similarly fancy grey waistcoat over it, and a ruffled cravat tied around her neck. She'd even pulled her hair into an updo, with strands of her fringe framing the side of her face.

The burmecian's eyes suddenly flicked toward them and Zidane flinched, before grinning nervously and giving a little half-wave. She didn't move, but her mouth curled in a half-smile before her eyes shifted slightly to his left, to Amarant.

He glanced again at the taller man, and realised that somewhere beneath that mane of hair, he was staring at Freya. Zidane wondered if he had been the whole time.

His gaze wandered back to Freya, wondering what it was that had captured Amarant's attention. Admittedly, it wasn't often the dragoon was ever out of her old pseudo-uniform, the hat and coat and mail of a lancer. She certainly spent most of her time in it during their last journey, but she was just another burmecian beneath it all. It wasn't as if she'd grown another head or something.

"What's up?" He asked, nudging the outlaw.

Whatever the man had been thinking, Zidane's touch seemed to break the spell as he grunted before turning his attention elsewhere.

Before Zidane could press him further on his behaviour, a low murmur began at the other end of the entrance hall, and ran like a ripple through the crowd until it reached them and died down. He tried to see through the people beside him once he realised everybody was looking toward the door.

"Hrrm." Amarant growled.

Then Zidane saw them. A dozen or so of the burmecian retinue marching up in a column toward the Queen. Truthfully, he hadn't been completely honest with Amarant about them because while Garnet had seen and spoke with their leader, he hadn't, only knowing what she had told him, which was why he was just as eager to see them now.

Their dress was recognisably burmecian, but…different. More rudimentary, more military in its style. Less colours and complicated styles than much of the fashion today, either common or noble alike. Six of them were uniformed alike, soldiers he assumed, in dark green jackets with pauldrons and a simple breastplate, along with rounded helmets, complete with visors and elongated neckguards at the back. They carried spears and round shields and their feet were clad in complicated looking armoured footwear. They also carried another…well he wasn't sure what it was. Some kind of long tube, but it had a stock like a crossbow, which they had slung over their shoulders.

The other six were all dressed slightly more formally. A few women were among them. One thing he noted was their dress all seemed to include some kind of headwear which obscured the upper parts of their faces in some way, usually in the form of some elaborate hats with visors of fine fabric for the women or slanted long brimmed hats for the men. Apart from the leader.

It was fairly obvious he was their leader, Zidane thought. It was in the way he walked ahead, the way he carried himself, the way he never even glanced back as if knowing he was to be followed without question. He was dressed possibly the most utilitarian of all, in a coat and pants of dark olive green, simple leather gaiters and gloves and a tall brown hat, which he removed halfway to the throne and held under his arm, in a sign of respect. His hair was jet black, pulled back into a low ponytail, and his fur a fine, dark grey.

"Funny lookin', aren't they?" He murmured to Amarant, not expecting a reply.

He noticed Amarant was looking back at Freya again.

Across the room, Freya stared at the approaching group, eyes widened slightly. She looked briefly at Garnet, who smiled softly, then turned her attention back to the visitors.

The group stopped before the stairs that rose up to the throne. The leader carried on a few steps before falling to one knee. He bowed his head slightly then looked up at them. He flashed a charming smile, and his eyes were full of energy as he looked at all of them.

"My name is name is Magnus Haulst, Lord of House Haulst and great, great, great grandson of Lord Fileas Hault, one of the greatest of the old houses of Burmecia. It is a pleasure to meet you, your majesty."

Garnet stood and descended the stairs toward him, followed closely by Beatrix, Freya noticed. She held out a hand and Lord Haulst took it, rising to his feet.

"You are most welcome in our city." Garnet said, confidently. "Your journey must have been long and hard."

Freya found it eye-opening how different the girl was in a formal setting. No longer slightly nervous or worrisome, Garnet projected an air of quiet strength, a trait she found she admired, one particularly beneficial to a queen.

"It was at that," Haulst nodded. ", but easier since the disappearance of those…mists which plagued us for so long. Life has been hard for my people for many years, I hope I have the opportunity to change that."

"There will be time for more serious discussion later, but for now, I'd like you to meet somebody." Garnet half-turned, eyes meeting hers.

Lord Haulst followed the queens gaze, and his eyes flashed with something as he saw her, as if noticing her for the first time. Freya found she was actually nervous, once she realised she'd been gripping her wrist so tightly her knuckles had whitened.

As they strolled over, she found herself thinking how…_nice_ he looked up close. He was certainly older than herself, but his face had an air of honesty and nobility she found appealing. And while his face was hardened by whatever he had been through, there was still something beneath it all, something-

"You must be Lady Crescent, I have heard much of your heroic achievements."

She blinked as he took her hand gently and kissed it, unaccustomed to being treated so…

"Oh," She blurted, embarrassed at how flustered she was. ", no, really. I never-"

"Nonsense." He smiled, warmly. "Queen Garnet has told me much of your exploits, of the exploits of all your group in saving not only our homes and our people, not only our land, but our world."

"Freya sacrificed much to help us." Garnet added.

"I know that feeling well." Haulst nodded, understandingly. "But your majesty, you are most remiss, you did not tell me Lady Crescent was such a handsome young woman."

Freya opened and closed her mouth, unable to think of anything to say. She looked to Garnet for help, pleadingly. Garnet was trying to hide a grin and even Beatrix looked like she was trying not to smile. A loud, coarse laugh across the hall drew her attention. She saw Zidane burying his head in his hands as half the crowd turned toward them, annoyed, while Amarant stood nonchalant as ever, arms crossed and looking at the ceiling.

"Son of a-" Freya muttered under her breath, biting her tongue when Haulst turned back to her, still grinning. "-uuhh…" She trailed off.

"Friend of yours?" He whispered to them, conspiratorially.

"He's a menace." Beatrix replied, glaring at the outlaw.

"What my general means," Garnet scowled at the older woman. ", is that Amarant Coral is an unconventional individual. But he too helped us in our quest, one year ago."

"He certainly looks the type." Haulst obserbed, casually.

Freya was sure he didn't mean any harm by the comment, but to hear a stranger talk about Amarant like that, rankled her. He couldn't just-

Had she just been concerned about him? Any of her friends, she corrected herself, not just Amarant, that was what she'd meant.

"Amarant is a great warrior, and a worthy ally." She added in his defense, hoping he'd never get to hear of it. Though Garnet's widening smile, Beatrix's raised eyebrow and Zidane's stifled laughter.

"Didn't he start a fight with you, when you first met?" Beatrix grinned.

"I recall you taking part in the invasion of my country and destroying my home." She eyed the general. "Compared to that…"

Garnet sighed, shaking her head as the two tried to stare each other down.

Beatrix frowned a little, then shrugged and laughed.

"Touché, 'Lady Crescent'." The woman smirked.

"I assure you, I meant no offense." Haulst raised his hands apologetically. "To you, or your…uh…gentleman over there."

"Amarant?!" Freya blurted, unable to even finish wording the thoughts that were now rushing through her mind. She felt her cheeks grow warm. "He's not-" The words died in her throat.

This time it was Zidane who laughed loudly, ducking as Amarant stiffly tried to whack the shorter genome in the back of the head, not taking his eyes off of her. Even some of the crowd were chuckling at the "entertainment".

"I do seem to be making a mess of things, don't I?" Haulst chuckled. "And I so hoped to make a good impression, with you."

"With…er…with me?" Freya managed, still grappling with the last thought.

"I and my people have missed much of our history, and the history of the other nations. We have much to learn. I feel we also have much we can share with you, and the unfortunate survivors of the wars I have heard so much about."

"Perhaps this can wait until another time," Garnet interrupted, much to Freya's relief. ", for now there are many others who may wish to make to make your acquaintance and," Here Garnet turned her attention to the throne room at large. ", I should like to announce to everybody that the festival will begin in two days' time. Those organising events should be in touch with the planning commission to finalise the details. Thank you for coming."

The entire crowd bowed slightly as Garnet made her exit, followed by Beatrix and Steiner, notably excepting the rigid form of Amarant Coral, who already loomed above those around him and now stood out even more. Freya felt his eyes on her still, as she continued to stare back.

"I should very much like the opportunity to talk with you further, Lady Crescent." Lord Haulst' voice cut through her still confused paralysis. "I find you most charming."

"Really?" She blurted, then felt herself blushing again. It had been so long since anybody had treated her like…well…a woman. Quite a long time indeed, in fact, though even she was sure the man was trying to flirt with her. "I mean…um…thank you?"

Truth be told, even before, before everything, there had only really been Fratley. Her youth had not been one filled with love and romance and other such things her peers had concerned themselves with. She had no other to compare him to. Here, her eyes strayed to the pale giant in the crowd for some reason.

No other to compare Fratley to, she found herself thinking rather more insistently this time, though her eyes still lingered on his unreadable face.

"I should leave you now." He bowed his head politely. "I can see others waiting to talk to me and I see you too, are needed elsewhere."

"Oh, n-"

"It's quite alright." He smiled and again she felt herself clam up under the weight of his full attention. "It was a pleasure." She allowed him to take her hand and kiss it again, then watched as he turned and walked into the crowd that had surrounded the rest of his retinue.

She stared down at her still somewhat extended hand, it tingled a little.

Freya really couldn't remember the last time she'd just…conversed with one of her own people, let alone enjoyed their company. The last year in Burmecia she had simply buried herself in work and relief efforts, never truly feeling a part of her people, always feeling responsible for their weakened state. Mostly she had talked to Fratley, though they no longer knew each other. She wondered if had been doing more harm than good to do that, now.

Thinking about Fratley raised a slew of other things she'd rather not think about at that moment, so she pushed them aside and smiled as she made her way over to Zidane and Amarant, as they too walked toward her.

"Hello." She greeted them. Zidane smiled and even Amarant managed to look slightly less disinterested than usual.

"Interesting guy." The genome grinned, gesturing over at the new arrival, currently mobbed by some of the highest society Alexandria had to offer.

Freya noted a great deal of them were women, with what she realised was actually a spike of jealousy. She hurriedly pushed that thought aside too, deeming it nonsense.

"I couldn't say." She shrugged, still glancing over at the crowd.

"Come off it," Zidane laughed. "He couldn't keep his eyes off of you!"

"Sleazy. Don't trust him. Or the others." Amarant said suddenly and grimly.

"What?" Freya blinked, staring at him.

"Oh yeah," The blonde continued. ", Amarant thinks Lord Haulst and his people are the enemy."

"Shut up." Amarant growled, taking a swing at the genome, which the younger man dodged easily.

Freya shook her head in disbelief.

"You can't be serious."

The rebellious thought that Amarant had never told a joke as long as she'd known him nestled at the back of her mind. He stared back at her, expression unflinching.

"You are serious." She continued. "Based on what?"

"Don't know."

"Well, they did arrive just a day or so before you did. And that…assassin that looked like you…it is a bit…fishy?" Zidane shrugged. "And truthfully, nobody has been able to verify who they are. The current ruling council in your kingdom hasn't been able to find any information on them and-"

"Puck hasn't returned from his travels yet." Freya massaged her forehead frustratedly. "I know."

"…um…" Zidane managed, seeing Freya's failing patience.

"Look." She began, impatiently. "House Haulst was one of the old, old families of Burmecia. A few hundred years ago it was-"

"Ahhh, and these must be your other companions."

They all turned at the interruption. Haulst appeared, flanked by two others and followed by much of the crowd. Freya blinked, losing her train of thought.

"Do forgive me for interrupting, but I did not wish to miss the chance to meet the two of you before you left." Haulst held out a hand, shaking Zidane's. "It is a pleasure to meet the young man who saved a world. Such bravery is to be commended."

"…uh…right, thanks?" He smiled weakly.

"And you must be…" Haulst held out his hand to Amarant.

The giant man didn't move, or speak.

"Amarant." Freya hissed, disbelievingly.

"You were saying." He turned back to her, ignoring Magnus completely.

"I…damn it Coral." She glared at him.

"Excuse me?" Haulst ventured.

"…um…" Zidane grimaced.

"He interrupted you, as you were telling us about the Haulst family."

"You know something of our history?" Haulst asked, politely.

Here, even Freya spared a brief glance to her two friends. Something was…off…in his tone. It was…disingenuous. But why should he lie?

"I…yes. I spent much of my time as a child studying our history, while working through the academy."

"Fascinating." He smiled again. "Then indeed, there is much we can learn from each other. But another time. It has been a long day, and there are matters I must attend to. Excuse me." He bowed politely and left, towing his people behind him.

One of his followers, a woman, turned slightly as their leader approached. She lifted her head, the movement exposing her face. Freya stared, her blood running cold. The woman noticed her looking and turned away again quickly.

The crowd let out a disappointed sigh as Haulst and his retinue left the throne room.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Freya. But Amarant might be on to something." Zidane murmured as they watched them go.

"'course I'm right." Amarant grunted, as if it was obvious. "Crescent just-" He stopped, on seeing the fixed expression of…even he wasn't sure, on her face. A mix of terror, fury, fear, confusion all at once. Zidane noticed too.

"Freya?" He touched her arm gently, and she jumped, looking to and from the both of them wildly. She looked back to the doors of the throne room, but the burmecians were gone.

"Crescent." Amarant ventured. Zidane was amazed to actually recognise concern in his voice.

"Purple eyes." She looked back at them, murmuring quietly. "She had purple eyes."


End file.
